Wrong for the Right Reason
by Morralls
Summary: When Neal suffers amnesia in the aftermath of a serious injury, Peter is faced with a choice: Do the right thing, or the wrong thing... for the right reason?
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

"What's the point of having you around if I can't send you in to do the undercover jobs?" Peter complained, fastening the watch around his wrist and turning it on.

Neal shrugged. "Eventually, we were going to come across someone who didn't like me, Peter. I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner. Besides me, you're the only one who knows how to pick pockets, which makes you perfect for the job."

"Yes." Peter replied through gritted teeth. "Which is why I'm doing it. Alright, be ready on my signal."

"Do you remember your code word?" Neal asked suddenly. The question was enough to stop Peter in his tracks. He stood there, staring at Neal for a long moment. For the first time since Peter had met him, he saw Neal's face turn red in a blush. The young con shrugged again. "I'm just making sure. Playing Peter, as it were."

"That's not why you asked."

"Peter, remember, Banes tried to have me killed last time we worked together. I've got the scar to prove it." Neal reminded him, his hand brushing over the scar on his thigh. "It was only through luck that I lived, really."

"Yes, Neal, I know, but he's not going to try and kill me when he has another job for me. I'll be fine, and I know my word. It's 'mark,' okay?"

"Alright... Be careful, Peter."

"I will." Peter climbed out of the van and strode into the building, leaving Neal alone with Diana and Jones. Neal sat down, then stood up again and started pacing.

"Neal, if you don't sit down, I will arrest you." Diana snapped, her patience with him highly limited.

"I'm worried, okay?" Neal replied, sitting down anyway.

"We noticed."

Neal fell silent, pouting. This case had gotten ridiculous. It had started out as a simple mortgage fraud case: something cut and dry and overwhelmingly boring. That is, until they had brought their suspect in. When Peter shook him down, a name was dropped; Derek Banes. Things had quickly become interesting. Mozzie had done some digging and realized that Banes was running a two man con, and that he didn't trust his partner. He was looking for a thief, someone to go in and do some digging. Peter had stepped up for the job when Neal admitted that he and Banes had a past, one that had resulted in an attempt on Neal's life that he had narrowly escaped. When Peter had finished the job, Banes had commissioned him for a second. He was going in now for a briefing about what that second job was. They had speculated, but no one could figure out what it was. Now that Banes knew that his partner had nothing to hold against him, they couldn't figure out what else Banes needed Peter for. At that precise moment, it hit Neal: he didn't. "Peter's in trouble!" He threw himself out of the van, sprinting into the building. Peter was standing there, alone.

"Neal, what the hell are you doing in here? You're going to blow the whole sting!" Peter said angrily. Neal grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the exit.

"Banes doesn't leave witnesses, Peter. That's why he tried to have me killed. This is a hit." Neal said in a rush.

"Dammit! Clear the area!" Peter barked. "There may be armed suspects nearby!" He started running in earnest, Neal hot on his heels. A clock started running, and running fast.

"The building's rigged to explode! Peter, _run_!" Neal shouted, adrenaline giving him a burst of speed. Peter matched his pace, and they tore out of the warehouse together. Neal heard the telltale _click_, and with speed he didn't know he had, shoved Peter to the ground as the warehouse exploded behind them. The explosion sent Neal flying into the wall of an adjacent building, and he experienced a moment of blinding pain, and then nothing.

Peter struggled to his feet, the heat from the fire at his back, and the crumpled figure of his partner before him. "Neal! Someone call an ambulance! _Neal!_" He knelt by Neal's head, taking in the sight. Neal's left leg was bent at an unnatural angle, his clothes were smoldering, and, most terrifying of all, he was laying in a rapidly growing pool of his blood, seeping out from an injury to the back of his head. Peter patted out the flames from the young con's body and leaned down, listening for Neal's breath. It was slow and ragged, but it was there. Barely. "Neal, you idiot. Why did you do that? Dammit, Caffrey, if you die, I'll kill you." Peter choked out, gently brushing a matted, bloody curl out of Neal's face. Neal had taken those precious few seconds to save Peter's life, at the risk of his own, which spoke volumes about how Neal felt about him. Now, Neal appeared to be dying. Peter was terrified to touch him, afraid that Neal's neck might be broken.

"Peter... There's an ambulance on the way." Peter felt Diana's hand on his shoulder, but he didn't look up from Neal's face.

"Diana... if he dies, I... Jesus, Neal..." He was crumbling.

"He's going to be alright, Peter." Diana assured him with a gentleness that she rarely used where Neal was concerned.

"What if his neck is broken? What if Neal dies?"

"He's not going to die, and what if isn't going to help anyone right now Boss." She dropped into a more professional manner, which helped him to maintain his. They stayed like that, Peter stroking Neal's hair with shaking hands, Diana standing stoically at his side, until the ambulance arrived, and Neal was loaded on. Peter rode with him to the hospital, holding the limp hand like it was his last tie to this life. After that he was confined to the waiting room, which he paced until Elizabeth arrived and made him sit down, talking him down from the mind-numbing terror in the way that only El was capable of.

Husband and wife sat together through the entire night and well into the morning before someone finally came to talk to them about Neal. He would live, but until he woke up, they couldn't account for his mental state. Brain injuries were unpredictable, and Neal had been badly wounded. Peter could go sit with him in the ICU if he wanted to.

He wanted to.

El went in with him for a few minutes, wanting to see for herself that Neal was alive. He was bruised and bandaged and hooked up to countless machines, but he was alive. "El, go home and get some sleep." Peter said quietly, squeezing his wife's hand. "It's been a long night."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Elizabeth asked.

"Now that I know that he will." Peter assured her. El nodded.

"Bye Hon."

"Bye, Hon." Peter gave her a weak smile at the name, and she kissed him and left. Peter sat down in a chair beside Neal's bed and took his hand. His wrist was swollen, but it was just a sprain, and splinted accordingly. While he waited, Peter categorized his partner's injuries. His leg had obviously been broken, and it was in a cast, anklet-less, (not that Neal could walk with that leg anyway) numerous burns marred Neal's body, none of them very severe. Two of his ribs were broken, one was cracked, and of course, the head injury. The rest were just cuts and bruises, stitched shut and bandaged. It was bad, but it could have been so much worse.

Peter was nodding off, his head on the edge of Neal's bed when the young con groaned and his eyelids flickered open. "Neal! Neal, thank God." Peter squeezed his hand, and Neal winced, pulling it away. "Sorry. Are you feeling alright? I mean, alright being relative, but... Neal?"

Neal, having categorized his location, was staring at Peter warily. "Who are you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thanks for the interest in this story. I couldn't get the idea out of my head for the longest time and finally decided to write it. I can't put up the full a/n here without spoiling the plot, and no one seems to know where I'm going with the whole amnesia thing. Stay tuned for a/n part 2 at the bottom of the page.**

"Good morning, Peter." Amy smiled when she saw the basket in his hands. "Is that for Neal?"

Peter held up the care package El had prepared. "Who else? How is he?"

"He had a rough night, the poor guy. He's frustrated that he can't remember anything. I sat with him when I could." Amy had -surprise of surprises- developed a soft spot for the handsome young con artist in room 508. "I told him not to worry about it. His memories will return, in time. It's only been three days."

"yeah. I'm uh… gonna go see him." Peter rode the elevator up to the fifth floor and knocked on the doorframe to Neal's room. Neal looked up from the crossword.

"Peter!"

"Hey Neal. Any luck with that?"

Neal looked at the crossword and frowned. "I can't seem to get 42 down…. _Friend of Renoir_..."

"How many letters?"

"Five. M, O, blank blank blank."

Peter frowned. "You really don't know?"

"No." Neal looked up at him. "I should, huh?"

"He's your favorite painter. You love the Impressionists."

"Who is it?"

"Claude Monet." Peter handed over the gift basket. "El sent this for you."

Neal grinned when he saw the sketch pad and pencils. While his partner riffled through his goody basket, Peter looked around the room. A flier sat on the bedside table, advertising some ridiculous conspiracy theory, which was obviously Mozzie's idea of a get well soon card. A new flower arrangement sat by the window, and Peter could just see a yellow flower in it that was made out of paper. Alex had been here, or at least had sent flowers. "This is great!" Neal said, happily flipping through an art history book. "Make sure you thank Elizabeth for me."

"I see you have some gifts from your friends." Peter said, picking up the flier and inspecting it.

"Yeah. I don't have a lot of friends, apparently." Neal said, looking from the flier to the origami flower.

Peter chuckled. "You're right about that, but the friends you _do_ have are really good friends."

Neal smiled at the thought. "Tell me about them?"

"I think I see one now…" Peter stood up and left the room. Sara was standing nearby, her hand over her mouth. "Sara?"

"When you told me he had amnesia, I didn't expect it to be that bad. He can't remember anything?"

"Nothing about his past. Total blank slate." Peter said. "Are you going to come see him or lurk outside his room all day?"

"No. Of course." Sara nodded, and Peter put a sympathetic arm around her shoulders and led her in.

"Hi. I take it I know you." Neal said uncertainly. Sara nodded.

"This is your girlfriend, Neal. I told you about Sara." Peter said, letting Sara sit down beside him. Neal held out a hand, and Sara took it slowly.

"I don't know how to say this without sounding like a raging jackass, but… I don't remember you."

Sara laughed. It was so ludicrous, and the smile he had on right now was so _Neal_. "I know. It's okay. I'm just glad you're alright."

"Relatively speaking." Peter piped up. "I'm going to go get some coffee. Want anything, Sara?"

"No thanks, Peter." The FBI agent nodded and stepped out, giving them some privacy to talk.

"So… are we happy together, you and I?" Neal asked, those clear blue eyes scrutinizing her face.

"We are." Sara nodded, offering him an unconvincing smile.

Neal squirmed, grimacing, and Sara raised an eyebrow. "You okay there? Nothing hurts?"

"No, I have a morphine button if I need it." Neal said, pointing. "I don't _hurt_, exactly. I just feel weird. Like my skin is jumpy, if that makes sense." Sara watched his muscles twitching, and was forcibly reminded of an old conversation.

_Sara was wrapped comfortably in a silken sheet, sharing only enough that Neal's waist and hips were covered. They were lying on their sides, facing each other. "So, tell me about prison."_

"_Strange topic for pillow talk, don't you think?" Neal teased. _

"_We're not exactly a conventional couple."_

"_You make a good point." Neal agreed. "I don't have to tell you that prison is unpleasant. There's a crushing monotony to the whole thing. But that's not really the worst part, you know?"_

"_What's the worst part?"_

"_I don't have to tell you that I'm…. touchy. I'm so used to having physical contact… in cons, in regular life… when I was deprived of that, I felt… weird. It's hard to explain. It was like my skin was… jumpy, if that makes sense?"_

_Sara watched his muscles twitching as he remembered it, and she curled up against him, planting a kiss right over his heart. "I think I understand." _

Sara smiled. "I know what's wrong. You told me once that you're… very used to having physical contact. You're a tactile person, Neal, and I think it's getting to you." Slowly, trying not to freak him out, she sat on the edge of the bed and touched his face. Neal's eyes slid closed, and Sara pressed her palm against his cheek in earnest, watching him start to relax.

Eyes still closed, Neal spoke. "Lay with me? We're dating, after all."

"Well, we were." Sara said as she curled up beside him, reveling in his warmth. "Now that you're an amnesiac, a relationship would probably get awkward."

"Cuddling is nice, though." Neal said happily, wrapping his good arm around her waist and pulling her closer. She placed her head carefully down on his shoulder, trying not to hurt him, but he didn't seem to mind.

"It is nice. 23 across is 'Banal.'"

"Lacking in originality… I think you're right."

"Of course I'm right." Sarah replied primly. He tickled her side in a movement that was so familiar that she forgot to breathe for a moment.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. You keep surprising me by doing normal things." Sara propped herself up on her elbow to look at him. "Are you playing me, Caffrey?"

"You'll never know." He teased, that playful half-con smile in place. Impulsively, she kissed him, then pulled away, flushing.

"Sorry, Neal."

"I'm not complaining." Neal smiled. "I obviously have good taste in women."

"Jackass." Sara settled down against his side again as Peter made his presence known.

"I really didn't want to see that." He came in and set his coffee down. "Decided to work on that together, huh?"

"I was starved for contact." Neal explained.

"Why doesn't that surprise me? You sticking around, Sara?"

"No, I have to go. I'm already late to work." Sara stood and kissed Neal on the cheek. "Rest up, feel better, get your memory back."

"I'll try my best." Neal assured her, reaching out to catch her hand and pull her in for a proper kiss. "Come back and see me."

"I will." Sara left, and Neal grinned.

"She's beautiful, and smart, and funny. I have great taste in women."

"Erase your memory and you still get all the girls. What is it about you?" Peter shook his head. "You told her you love her, you know. About two weeks ago."

"I did? Did she say she loved me back?"

"Not until the day before your accident." Peter plucked the crossword from Neal and looked it over.

"That must be hard for her." Neal said, frowning.

"She understands. Sara's smart, remember? Don't worry about her. Worry about you. We need you back at the bureau."

"So I work at the FBI."

"Kind of. You don't _work_ anywhere, really. _I_ work at the FBI. You're my consultant. You use your contacts in the crime world to help me solve my cases. You and I have a 94% conviction rate. We make good partners." Peter's phone rang, and he glanced at the display. "It's Diana. I have to take this, Neal. I'll be right back." He stepped out of the room. "Diana."

"Boss, we've got a case you might like. We've got a forged passport, and it's so good that if Caffrey didn't have amnesia, I would think he did it."

"That good, huh?" Peter smiled. "Oh, he'll love this… Alright, thanks, Diana." He hung up the phone and returned to Neal's room, where Mozzie was sitting, stone-faced and listening to Neal explain that he worked for the FBI, and helped put criminals in jail.

"Suit, can I talk to you for a minute?" Mozzie asked, leading him back out of Neal's room and closing the door. "You told him that he was a _fed_? What were you thinking?"

"I didn't tell him that he was an agent. I told him that he was my consultant at the FBI and got a call before I could explain that he was a con artist. Neal must have gotten the wrong idea."

"Well go in there and set him straight!"

Peter opened his mouth to explain that he was _going to_ when a terrible, wonderful idea occurred to him. Within moments, his mind was made up. "No."

"No? _What do you mean, no?_ Go in there and tell him, or I will!"

"I would hate to have to look into your exploits as a criminal, Mozzie." Peter said, too casually. Mozzie stopped in his tracks.

"Threatening me? What would you get on me, Suit?"

"I would start with the Dentist of Detroit, get your real name from Mr. Jeffries, and see where that trail led me. I'm sure it would come up with interesting results." Peter stared him down.

"I misjudged you, Suit, and when Neal gets his memory back, he'll realize that he misjudged you too."

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." Mozzie glared at him, then stormed away.

Dinner was waiting for him when he got home, and he knew immediately that Mozzie had been here to see El. She was quiet all through the meal, and finally spoke. "Honey?"

"Yes?" _Here it comes._

"Did you tell Neal that he's an FBI agent?"

"No. I told him that he worked with me at the FBI as a consultant. Then I stepped out to take a call and Neal must have jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"Did you correct him?" She already knew the answer. He could see it.

"No, I didn't."

El nodded, too calm. It scared him. "Why not?"

"He has to change anyway." Peter said. "This might help make that transition easier. The thing about Neal is that he's going to test it if I tell him that he's a con artist. He's already been seduced by that lifestyle before. Why give an alcoholic a drink?"

"You're lying to him, Peter! Neal isn't a lawman, no matter how much you might want him to be!" El argued.

"If I tell him the truth now, El, I'll be putting him in jail by the end of the month. I'm not going to ruin him like that. He's made so much progress, but without his memory to make him understand why he wants to stay, he'll run."

"You don't know that."

"I'm not willing to take the chance."

"What happens when his memory comes back?"

"If I can forgive him for hiding the treasure and getting you kidnapped, he can forgive me for this." Peter said certainly. "He'll understand. He's smart."

"I'm not going to be able to change your mind about this, am I?" El sighed. "I don't want him in this house, Peter, and I don't want to see him. I'm not going to be a part of this."

Peter had hoped that she would see his point of view on this, and she did. If she didn't, she would never let it go, and he would eventually have to tell Neal. El wasn't a liar. Neither was he, really, but when it came to Neal, there wasn't much Peter wouldn't do to keep the young con on the straight and narrow. "Alright, Hon."

**Author's Note (part 2): Forgive the fact that it's mostly dialogue, and that it's rushed. It's late, and I'm tired, but I really wanted to get this chapter up today. I will take my time with the next chapter and have it up soon. I also tried to stay (mostly) in character, although I took a few liberties. I do not, however, believe that lying to Neal would have never occurred to Peter until the damage had been done. Who wouldn't be tempted? Reviews are always great. Who doesn't like hearing from their readers?**


End file.
